Changes
by DXRULES103
Summary: A man with no one is called to capture Hannibal and Clarice but there is another out htere that may ruin everything. The Ripper.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

A man sat alone in the dark on his chair in his living room; the television on. He had a glass of water in his hand. It was untested for the man's eyes were blank and cold; a rush of thoughts was in his head.

There was a packet of letters on his lap. They were opened letters folded and placed down. Letters that he had read over and over. Letters that forever stayed in his mind no matter how hard he tried to get rid of their words.

He tried many times before bet he could never seem to throw them away. He had almost succeeded before on numerous occasions but no, he just couldn't. He had felt that he would need them in another time. As if something important would come to call for them.

They pry his mind, letting it slip into his folds, and he would just examine and analyze the contents thoroughly in his head. He would always stop himself but the instinct won't go away.

He couldn't drink. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see.

His mind was gone into some other side of the world; changing him and transforming him.

His name was Will Graham.

Will was on the edge. On the brink of it; staring down at the abyss. He was in an awful dilemma. There was something inside him; something that pulled beneath the surface of him. It was a horrid thing. A thing that was beginning to take over him; controlling and consuming. He felt that he had no more self control. It burned him; confused him. It was never ending. He was lost in the walls that were closing in on him.

He knew the feeling. That feeling sunk inside his heart. He felt great discomfort constantly haunting him. He was staring at his mirror. He had been staring at his refection. He didn't want to but it was against his will. Against everything. Unconsciously he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his scars.

Scars. Those numerous scars that were scattered all around him; inside and out. They never erased, never went away; always going deeper in. Scars that represented so much. Of the past, of the present, and of the distant future.

With his free hand he traced them. He traced his scars and at the touch flashed back to how he got that specific one. Each flash was a live and vivid one. He saw the doer. He felt the pain as the weapon used went in to hurt him.  
Everything was real. Too real.

He heard voices too. Uncountable voices that echoed in his mind. Harsh, cold, and yet surprisingly warm voices.

They shouted and whispered in his heads, but two over shouted and whispered them all. Hannibal Lector's and something else. Both made him angry and each gave him pain.

**_"Do you dream much…?" Hannibal voiced out in his head._**

Did he dream? Always. And even not at night but in the morning, during the day, and in the afternoon. No, his dreams were not just appearing at night when he falls asleep and closed his eyes, but also when he was awake; eyes fully open.

What did he dream of? He dreamt of everything. Of everything that he had seen, heard, felt, tasted, and smelled. _Everything._

Sometimes he dreams of his ex-wife and son. Like where they were living, how they're doing, if they have found another man to replace him, etc, and etc.

At other times of his family but the visions never lasted long.

Then he dreams of Quantico and his days as an FBI agent. And they included Lector, and he viewed him as a helper to catch the killers not even the slightest of suspicion of him.

But of course the scenery would change. He would find out that it was Hannibal that was the true evil and everything from that to the moment he started living alone.

And he would then wake up to see himself changed like the dream never existed, but that too is another segment. The dark encloses on him; the fear gives him adrenaline and he soon falls back, embraces it, and no more.

The darkness that raised fear which gave him adrenaline to live with it in control rather than disbelief and hate but using it along with his instinct and knowledge.

Will knew he carried baggage. A lot of baggage. It made sense since he doesn't get along with anything anymore. He was sick and tired; lost and unwilling to be found.

Xoxoxoxxoxxooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooox

He turned his head at the sound of someone's voice saying the name of Hannibal Lector.

"_The search for Dr. Hannibal Lector and the FBI's Killing Machine Clarice Starling has been going on for several months now…" the voice of the newscaster said._

Will blinked and set his glass down on the table next to him. He stood up; the letters dropping and he turned off the television. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a breath.

He really didn't need to know anything else.

He heard all about the escape of Hannibal Lector with FBI agent Clarice Starling. He knew everything since he read and watched everything. He thought that at last Hannibal would stop sending him letters but was faced with the sheerness of disappointment.

He had foolishly thought maybe since Lector has Starling maybe he wouldn't bother to send anymore words to him but again he was wrong. No, Hannibal kept sending his annual letters and he would read them; never throwing them away.

They always held contents on how Hannibal was doing, description of Clarice, or asking how he, Will himself was doing. But most of it consisted of random or taunting things. Nothing too important and yet each lingered in his mind.

Will rubbed his unshaved cheeks, chin, and under his nose. He walked to his kitchen when his cell phone rang. The ring was sharp to his ears; so he rubbed them also. He reached for his cell and flipped it open. He croaked, "Graham."

"Will," said a low voice on the other end.

It was a familiar voice to him. Someone from his past. It was Jack Crawford.

"Jack," he replied grimly, feeling too tired to question Jack for why he called.

"I this is a bad way of doing things but I need you, Will." Jack desperately said.

Will's eyes rolled and he countered, "I'm retired."

Jack sighed. "I know Will, I know."

"If you know then why are you even bothering?" Will snapped softly.

"Did you hear about Agent Starling?" Jack asked.

Will nodded to himself. He did. All the time. "Yeah."

"Well she's off somewhere with Lector. My men and I can't seem to find them, and there's a new serial killer out there waiting to strike. We need you." Jack pressed.

Will opened his refrigerator but saw nothing to his liking. "You got other young and old blood with you. I'm retired. I am not doing this."

Jack didn't say anything else. Instead he played something near the receiver of his phone. It played loudly into his ear. Will flinched as it reached his mind.

_"Please! No, no, no! Please... stop- I don't want to… please don't... I'll give you anything…- anything- I promise… oh God... please..! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" screamed a young woman in solid fear._

Will closed his eyes; the screams of the woman sent cold waves in his mind. He could tell by the woman's cry that she was in pain; begging for release, but in the end nothing more.

He felt both sympathy and empathy for her. It was strange for him but he no longer thought and feared any woman's pain for his ex-wife. Funny, not even her name. Just another victim.

"That young woman was only seventeen. We were sent a recording of her voice a week ago by someone who calls him or herself The Ripper. I surmise it to be a he, so he wrote a note on the top saying, "_Catch me if you can._" The Ripper seemed 'nice' enough to send us information on who the girl is and who we can contact to let the family know of her death."

Will started to feel something rumble in him.

"Who was she?" he finally asked.

"Her name was Alison Summers. Seventeen and a half. Disappeared on her way home from a party in Washington. No one had seen her since." Jack sadly pronounced.

"Where?" Will slowly asked.

"In California, but I know this guy is not there." Jack replied. "And that's all I got. I don't even have enough to solve this. You do."

"Jack," he sighed.

If he did say yes it wouldn't mater. He had nothing left.

"And I need you to at least to finalize the search for Hannibal and Starling."

He knew it of course. Why would Jack call unless he need help with Hannibal? _Always._

"Like I said Jack, I'm retired." Will assured to himself and to Jack. Yet the screams of the young lady echoed further but he felt nothing; only annoyance. And something else.

"All I'm saying is that you could still be making a difference. Just think about it Will. I'll be waiting for your call." Jack finally said and then hung up.

Will closed his eyes and scrunched his face. He needed to think but he didn't know how.

He needed to rest. A true real rest; a rest that would take him into perspective.

Xoxoxoxooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxoooooooooo

"Oh, my dear this is a very delicate piece of food. Salmon dressed in white wine with steamed yet utterly seasoned asparagus. You will surely enjoy it." Hannibal Lector said to one Clarice Starling who was sitting politely on a nicely furnished wooden table.

She smiled at Hannibal and nodded. "Please. I can eat any of your cooking. Thank you."

Hannibal smiled coolly and started to hum.

Xoxooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooxooxxx

**_The dream is no longer dead. It rises the truth in our lies. The fear is calling for release. Could it last the real thing inside? Or would it go away as the push comes to hard? But what would happen if the prophecy of words came true? If it were real. If it were true. What would he do?_**

_**Because there is no escape and every way out. Why? Where? How?**_

_**Gone.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: I do not own Will Graham nor do I own Hannibal Lector.

A/N: Whoa, it's been awhile since I did this one. I know you all wanted me to update this but I kept having a stupid writers block. But I don't have it anymore. Enjoy!

A/N2: I am so sorry that I haven't updated. Oh, to let you know… I probably won't update this again until about next Friday! Enjoy!

**Chapter Two **

Will entered the diner with scruffy clothes on and sat himself in a booth. He nodded to a familiar waitress. Her name was Cindy Finch. She was a woman in her forties with blackish hair and green eyes. She nodded as she came to and smiled politely at him.

"The usual?" she asked with her kind voice.

Will smiled softly but noticed the other people's cringes. And he knew why the cringed. They were looking at him. But he liked that Cindy didn't do that. She was polite as ever and a helpful women. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Okay then. Hash browns, two sunny side-up eggs, four sausages, and bacon with a great cup of dark coffee are on the way." With that Cindy turned and left to the kitchen.

She soon returned with a cup of dark coffee and he nodded. As he went and took a sip of his coffee he noticed a familiar person enter the diner. He noticed that person nod to the other waitress next to Cindy and come with a grin on his face to sit in front of him.

Will couldn't help but nod to the man and the man nodded back. Then the memories came back. Will knew how he knew the man. He recognized the features very well. The man was tall, broad, tanned with artic blue eyes and short brown hair. He remembered the man's grin. It was the one and only Anton Fischer.

Anton grinned wider and shook Will's hand. "How have you been, Will? Long time no see." Anton joked.

Will smiled in return. Yeah, it definitely had been awhile. "Yeah, I've been doing alright. You? Still trying to get Alicia in bed?" he joked back.

"Yeah, but so far nothing." Anton laughed.

Cindy returned and smiled at the new comer. "Would you like some coffee or anything else?" She was ready if he would say yes with another coffee cup in hand.

"Yeah, why not, I would love a cup." Anton agreed.

Cindy smiled and poured him a cup. Then turning to Will she said, "Your food will be up in ten."

"Thanks, Cindy." Will nodded. Then putting his attention back on Anton he felt himself feel the suspicions rise. He knew Anton wasn't here to talk about the old times in the Academy. No, he knew that Anton had an agenda. _**But what is it? **_He thought back on yesterday when Jack called him. And the realization hit him. _**Of course! This is about that two specific cases isn't it, Anton!?! **_He was angry and slightly annoyed. He told Jack twice that he was retired but Crawford was persistent. He had sent Anton here to persuade Will.

"I know why you are here," he said to Anton with a slight icy tone. He didn't like that Crawford would send some one to him just because he thought that he knew the mind of Hannibal Lector better than anyone.

"I expected as much." Anton replied. He in turn became serious. "Yes, I admit, Crawford sent me. He really wants to know that you are thinking seriously about what he asked of you."

"I know what he asked of me!" Will snapped. He knew very well what Jack wanted him to do. He wanted him to capture Hannibal and Clarice and he wanted him to take down this new serial killer who calls him or herself The Ripper.

"Easy, Will!" Anton soothed. His eyes growing concerned. "It's important to us all that you come back to Quantico. You don't have to stay long. Just be there while doing two very special assignments."

"To find Hannibal and the former agent Starling along with tracking and stopping a new serial killer called the Ripper doesn't seem to be two special assignments. They sound more like a death wish that I don't want made." Will easily replied.

"For God's sake William!" Anton snapped back. "Five more teenagers have died since Jack asked for you help. Five, Will! Five innocent teens from the ages of twelve to seventeen have died!" He noticed people wondering what was going on so Anton lowered his voice. "Five died the same way Alison Summers died. All being left around the U.S. while a recording of their screams was sent to Quantico and when their bodies were found a note from the Ripper saying: Catch me if you can." His eyes drifted to the scar on Will's face and he paused. A slight shock overcame him and Will could see it in his eyes.

Will knew that Anton was slightly disgusted at the scar. He knew that Anton is also memorized. He grew angrier. _**It's that bad isn't it? I mean look at it Anton! The scar looks like Picasso made it. I look ugly don't I? Am I disfigured? Of course. I was given this scar by a killer? Look at my life now thanks to this damn mark! Go ahead and be disgusted. I already did. **_

Anton withdrew his eyes from the scar and returned them to Will's eyes. His eyes held sympathy and pity. "Who gave that to you?" Anton couldn't help but ask.

"Dolarhyde," was the only answer Will could give.

"Right…" Anton muttered. But then going back to the original subject as Cindy finally returns with food. "We need you, man. We need you big time."

"Thank you Cindy." Will said to the waitress, taking his fork and his spoon into his hands.

"Anytime, sir." Cindy said, leaving them.

"I don't care, Anton. I don't care. Go ask Bloom to give analyzes about the Ripper not me." Will offered.

"Bloom isn't as good as you." Anton insisted but he knew that it would be to no use. So he stood up, took out some money and paid for Will's breakfast, and then he said, "You can do a lot of good. Think about it." And with that he left.

He left Will Graham to think. And to think very hard on the decision he could make.

Xoxoxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooxxx

"It seems we have gotten a letter." Clarice said to Hannibal as he sat on a chair watching the ocean waves.

"From who my dear?" Lector asked.

Clarice handed him the letter. "I don't know but it says it's for you. I did not want to impose and open it myself."

Lector laughed. "Then I will read out loud for the both of us."

_**Dear Hannibal Lector,**_

_**I have heard many things about you. Your work as the Chesapeake Ripper is quite amazing in itself. I know you among many other serial killers. I know you among a many brilliant minds. Once before I had started an intricate experiment. The experiment worked far too well than I would have thought and I am indeed quite proud of my work. So, dear Lector, I would like you join me in another experiment that I hope you to can be proud of.**_

_**Ah, my work has begun. I am going to do things that will be fun, hard, and quite grotesque in some way or not. Maybe I will finally do what I dream of doing. But alas that can't be now! Instead I will wait for I know a special gift will be given to the both of us.**_

_**Have you heard? I guess not since you and your lovely Clarice are in hiding that your old acquaintance or rival as I would like to think is at this moment being recruited by another old acquaintance Special Agent Jack Crawford to go and search for you and for me! I admit at first I didn't know what to think about this William Graham but I have grown to hate and like him.**_

_**I have found him almost as smart and fearful as you and I. Strange that a man that is working a different plane could be so much alike I and you. If I remember my readings correctly isn't he the one who caught you? Sure it looked as if by accident but I see more than that.**_

_**He fears. I know he fears well. He fears that his fears will change him into something he feels is like a monster. Oh what a mind that young man has! Maybe I can help him with that change, don't you think? **_

_**Do you know who I am? I know who you are. I would love to speak with you more but as of know I have some more experiments to do. **_

_**Without the slightest hint of wax,**_

_**The Ripper. **_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers: I do not own Hannibal Lecter nor do I not own Will Graham.

A/N: Changes…. Yes I am up to updating for this one…. Enjoy!

A/N/2: I just realized an on-going typo in my fanfiction. I always used Lector instead of Lecter. Lecter is the correct form of Hannibal's last names. Forgive me but at least I've finally caught it.

"The Ripper?" Clarice asked. She was shocked to get such a letter from such a enigma.

Lecter nodded. "Yes, the Ripper is an eloquent writer." He scratched his chin and his nose. He was curious at what was hidden in the letter. He was very curious. "He is formal yet random. He is sure of himself but is willing to accept my approval." He looked to Clarice. "My dear what do you know about this Ripper? It seems I have failed to keep up with some parts of the outside world."

Starling smiled. "Of course," she agreed. She thought for a moment. She thought on the news she watched, the rumors she heard, and the articles she read. "The Ripper is rumored to have been wrecking havoc ever since your escape. While I worked for the Federal Bureau I never really got into what exactly the Ripper's MO is. I only got that the guy is the same person even if the killings happen all around the States from suspicious suicides to interestingly brutal killings."

"I see. This man is moody in a sense but knows how to control such yearnings. Tell me more." Lecter assumed. He was growing more and more pleased at the letter he just read. He started to like this Ripper.

"At first they had thought they had finally apprehended the suspect of the killings but they were wrong. Instead they had captured a man who was forced by the Ripper to confess to some of the killings by threatening to kill his mother who lives in Britain but little did he know was the his mother was poisoned right before the Ripper had supposedly threatened him."

"Effective and exceptional." Lecter muttered to himself. Yes, he did like this Ripper a lot.

"In the news it is said that about seven to eight missing teens have all been found murdered. All in the same way. At first the local police didn't think it to be the same killer as the Ripper until the FBI got a seven to eight notes exactly giving them who exactly the victims are and what killed them. And the Ripper is rumored to leave a tape recording of the teens screams."

"Dramatic."

"Yes, quite. The Ripper is rumored to be you but many people in the public disagree. No, the public believes that this man is some one like the devil incarnated."

Lecter thought for a moment and then he spoke, "So the Ripper has experience. I can tell without even seeing everything in my head. Tell me… Did the law enforcement find any fingerprints?"

Clarice shook her head. "None whatsoever. There were no prints, hair, gun residue, saliva, and etc. It was like they were killed by some one out of this world."

"Yes, indeed." He was very interested in the young Ripper. He definitely wanted to learn more. Yes, he wants to talk to the Ripper and he wants it to be soon. "Clarice, darling, can you fetch me a pen and paper." He would like to respond to the Ripper's letter.

Xoxooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooox

Will Graham closed his eyes. He was in the shower. The water was hot and it burned him. But he didn't flinch because it felt good. It made him feel. It made him live in reality. He could not get it out of his head. He could not get out three things from his mind.

The first was Hannibal's newest letter. He had gotten the morning before and was quite disturbed at what he read. He didn't want to read the letter but he knew that it was more than impulse even more than instinct for him to open and then read letters from a man like Lecter. He remembered every word:

**Dear William,**

**So you are wanted to become the man who finds me. So you are wanted to become the man who finds Clarice. So you are wanted to become the man who finds the Ripper.**

**Oh, William, so much is put on you. I greatly hope that you haven't snapped yet because that would be really disappointing. To tell you the sincerest of truths I really don't mind you taking my case. I would really love for you to talk to me in person. I'll be waiting.**

**Hannibal Lecter**

He didn't like what he read. Lecter knew already that Crawford came to him. Lecter knew before the press did about the rumor and the concerned him deeply and it angered him. He didn't even agree to do the job and already the rumors were flying back and forth.

The second was equally disturbing. Jack had sent him copies of every file of the Ripper killings including the tape recordings. At first he was just pissed the Jack would dare to shove the case in front of him until he saw the tapes. He remembered the time Jack called him and played the recording. He remembered the screams and in that instance he had to listen to the rest. And each grew more haunting than the first.

He heard all the tapes three times each. He couldn't stop listening. He just couldn't. It was like he needed to hear them to get him inside some sort of mind base. And it worked. His head was clear except for his sudden fear.

The third thing was the letter from the Ripper himself. He wasn't expecting it at all until it came along with Lecter's letters. He shuddered as he soaped himself. Then he let his brain recount the contents.

**William,**

**I hope you are fine. I would really love to play with you. You might as well enjoy. Have you gotten the gifts from me to Crawford? Aren't they a doll. **

**OH, my time is apparently up, William. I will be wherever you are. **

**Without fault,**

**The Ripper**

Three curious dreadful things that he wanted to forget but couldn't. He rubbed the shampoo out of his hair when suddenly he saw the victims. He saw the victims and how they were killed. He didn't know how but he feared them. He suspected that his imagination was getting the best of him. Yes, he knew he shouldn't have read the reports and listened to the tapes. But he did and now he paid the price.

He opened his eyes. His eyes were cold and red. He felt nothing.

XoxoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooX

"Do you think William will change his mind?" Dr. Bloom asked Jack Crawford.

Jack shook his head. "To tell you the truth I don't know. It's up to him and not us."

"I understand. If there is one person out there that could get into serial killers heads as fast as Lecter can it's Will."

"And the only one who could ever really find Lecter is Will."

Bloom wondered aloud, "So the fate of all those innocent is in his hands."

"Yes…" Jack drawled. Yes, he knew it was.

"Mr. Crawford… we just received a call down in Oregon. The Ripper struck again," called out his secretary.

Jack and Bloom's eyes widen. Jack quickly picked up his phone and called the head agent down in Oregon.

The news that he got nearly blew him away.

A/N: Well, it's not that long but it will be. Review!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers: I do not own Hannibal Lecter nor do I own William Graham.

_A/N: Man… I've updated this one again… HEHE... well the Ripper has struck but whom? _

_A/N/2: to the stony Clarice robot thingy… I tried to get to know here but I am having a hard time but anyhow I've tried… _

"Are you sure?" Jack questioned, he himself hoping that the news he just received was nothing more than a lie.

"Yes sir. They're dead…" replied the agent in Oregon.

Jack nodded to himself and hung up the phone. He turned to Bloom with sadness in his eyes. He didn't like what he heard but he knew that this information could save the investigation no matter how hard it was to hear that there were two more deaths.

"What happened?" Bloom asked. He knew the look on Jack's face. He sensed the foreboding aura.

"Oregon called and the Ripper struck a woman and her son. The Ripper killed Molly and Josh."

Xoxoxoxooooooooooooooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxoxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Clarice smiled to herself the wave's splash and splash upon the sand. Hannibal was in the house writing a response to the Ripper. She has lived a happy and fun life with Lecter. She loved being in the country she was now in. She admired its beauty and she admires its wildness. She loved freedom's beauty.

Life with Lecter has been amazing if not somewhat a little cold. But she could live with it. She after all could make any intriguing and clever comebacks just as cold as Lecter's. She was skilled at fanning his anger but cooling it with her humor and her clever words.

The sex was actually quite interesting. They would do it anywhere at anytime. She had never thought at first that a man like Lecter could do the stuff he did but then again he was Hannibal. Hannibal Lecter is a skilled man. She laughed to herself and sat down. She would wait until Hannibal was done in his office.

Xoxooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooxoxxxx

Hannibal was indeed writing. He was slow but purposely. He enjoyed the letter that he received from the Ripper and enjoyed the letter he had given Graham. He was in his time to respond to the Ripper. And he responded:

_**To the darling Ripper,**_

_**I must confess that at first I never knew you existed in this malformed world. And now with you out of hiding I know I can really turn myself around and admire you work.**_

_**What experiments do you undertake? I have a feeling already that I will enjoy them. Your skill with taking the life force out of people is much to admire and respect. I would definitely love to meet you but then again when duty calls… duty calls. I am sorry my letter could not be as long and creative as yours but do know that I wish thee well.**_

_**Hannibal Lecter.**_

Xoxoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxo

An hour after his shower Graham got a call from Jack Crawford. He remembered the number and wanted not to answer but he couldn't. The case of the Ripper had stricken him. And the letters by Lecter also did the job. All he knew was that even though he helped for some things that doesn't mean he would take the offer.

"I'm sorry Jack," he apologized. "I can't do this. You got to find some one else to take the Ripper down. I can't do it at all."

"Please I beg of you to reconsider my offer." Jack pled. He sighed when he heard no reply from Will. "---" He was about to say something else but Will hung up on him.

He couldn't believe about how persistent Crawford was. He knew in his heart that he would not help. No matter what he feared. No matter what he despised. He would not return to hunting serial killers.

He sat on his couch with a beer in his hand. He took his remote and turned his television on and started surfing the channels. He found nothing to watch until he stopped at the channel 707 HD and his world came falling apart.

_**Newscaster: A woman in her thirties and a young boy at the age of 12 has been killed in their home down in Oregon. **_

The pictures of their once alive self shocked Graham. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Molly and Josh were dead. They were all dead. **Dead. **Oh, how he hated the word.  
_**Newscaster: It seems that these two innocent people were killed by the Ripper.**_

They were dead. Will's mind suddenly with black. He visibly paled and was instantly torn. He loved both Molly and Josh very much and now to realize that they are dead by some killer was just too heartbreaking.

_**Newscaster: No, other details are ready for viewing at this moment. All I can say is my heart goes out to the family of the woman and the young boy. **_

He turned off the television and let out a low powerful distraught scream. It was all going wrong. They weren't supposed to be touched by what he used to do. They weren't supposed to be victims. He cried out in terror and frustration. "**NOO!**" he screamed and he didn't care if anyone heard his tormented cries. It wasn't fair! They weren't supposed to end like they did! Why? He wanted to know why. He screamed and cried and wept uncontrollably. The fear inside himself was resurfacing along with the rush of a new heartbreak entered his confused mind. He lost them. They were gone. "**Ah, noooooooooooooooooo!**" he cried, he felt the air around him lessen. He felt himself stiffen in shock. He couldn't move and he couldn't breathe. There was nothing left for him.

His home phone started to ring. Ring! Ring! Ring! His lips pursed into a thin line as he squeezed his eyes closed as tight as he can. He didn't want to talk. He wasn't able to talk. The two most important people in his life were gone. He felt weak. He felt fear. He felt nothing. Why? Why were they gone? Those two questions were repeatedly asked inside. He knew it was useless to doubt. He really wanted to but he knew the truth. They were really gone. And at last he was truly alone.

Xoxooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooxoxoxoxx

In Oregon Special Agent Lucy Fitzgerald and her partner Chris Townsend had left from Salem to a small town near the city of Nampa. They were staring down at the fallen body of Molly Chanson.

She was lying in her living room floor which was made of tiles that shined and shined because of constant bleaching and cleaning. Her blackish-brown hair was cut from her. The blood that surrounded her was clearly touched by a hand that drew a circle around her sprawled body. She was shot in the ribs and in the foot but that didn't cause her death. Her brown eyes seemed to stare straight back at them. Her mouth stapled shut and bruises all over her body. She seemed to have given quite a fight.

"She didn't die from the bullet didn't she?" Chris asked. He put on his glove and touched Molly's neck. He noticed the bruising and the marks. She had died from strangulation.

"Strangulation…." Lucy said. "But from what?"

"From this!" Both agents turn to the speaker and nodded at the agent who did the pictures and drawings.

"Yeah, Tony?" Chris asked, wishing that he called the day off.

Tony pulled out a belt and replied, "This leather belt was forcefully put around the victim's next and pulled. The air was cut out from her. She didn't have the chance."

"Who died first?" Lucy asked herself glancing sadly at Molly's lifeless body.

The Chief Medical Examiner called June was now standing next to Lucy. He nodded in observance and sadly admitted, "The mother did. It seems the boy watched her be killed."

Lucy gasped. What person would do that to a human being? She didn't know what to think. She's dealt with a lot of crazy and horrible stuff but not that. She turned to Chris when she hears him growl.

"The bastard wanted to show off to the boy and then killed him next." Chris hissed in anger. He stood up and continued, "Where's the boy?"

June walked towards the master bathroom followed by Chris and Lucy. He pointed to the trail of bloody footprints. "The boy wasn't hurt. The footprints were of the assailant not the victim's."

"The Ripper was chasing the boy wasn't he?" Chris asked. The thought of a scared twelve running away from a madman made Chris shudder inside. No, he thought, this guy's not a madman… He's the devil incarnated.

They reached the master bathroom and were caught with the haunting sight of the boy called Josh sitting in the shower with his legs curled up and his arms around them with blood all over him. His eyes were stabbed and his feet stabbed to the floor.

"The eyes and the feet were postmortem. He died from a soft yet intricate piercing to his heart." June shook his head. "He slowly bled out."

"Time of death?" Lucy and Chris said at the same time.

"His mother was killed about one thirty p.m. And the boy…" he pointed at the sad figure and said, "… an hour after his mother…"

"It's five fifty now." Chris said as he looked at his watch. "We got the call about twenty minutes ago so that means the boy was killed around two thirty."

The Medical Examiner nodded in agreement. Chris looked to Lucy. He continued saying, "It takes some time to get back on the freeway further into Oregon but then again there's an easy way out since we're so close to Idaho…"

"The Ripper could have gone anywhere." Lucy exhaustedly said.

"I know. I know." Chris assured, he was slightly irritated but kept it in. "He could have tried to fly off to some other state or country. He could of drove off to Idaho, Washington, California, Nevada, and Montana… Too many could of's I know but that's all I can think about."

June decided to cut in saying, "Did you call the HQ in Quantico?"

"Yeah, we told him everything. And no he still is trying to get that William Graham to help us out but it doesn't seem to be working." Chris replied. He looked around at the room and shook his head. All he could think about was the waste of so many potential was bled away by an atrocious man.

"You think this Graham can do it?" Lucy asked. She heard of the "Special Investigator" that Quantico gave to the man. She knew that this Graham caught the Chesapeake Ripper and the Tooth Fairy but she wasn't sure if after quite a many years could the guy do it again.

"Who knows?" Chris shrugged, leading the way out of the master bedroom and on the way out of the small-now uninhabited- house. "But we all need the help we can get especially if this guy is trusted by Jack Crawford, caught many serial killers, and seems to know Hannibal the Cannibal more than anyone out there."

"Besides our supposed Killing Machine…" Lucy commented icily. She remembered the defection of Clarice Starling. At first she thought Lecter kidnapped her and begged, prayed, and worked hard on finding her when all of a sudden the evidence piles up and contradicts that thought and instead implicating Starling's willingness to go into hiding with Lecter.

"Point taken." Chris deadpanned. His grew eyes looked out at the clear dark sky. "This Graham knows Lecter. He knows serial killers because he is a Profiler. He is one of the best Profiler's out there. If he can find the Ripper than we all will be saved. Who knows what will unfold? Let's just hope that hope can live longer."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxox

The darkness surrounded Will. The darkness beckoned for Will. The darkness wanted Will.

It was tempting. It was oh so tempting to give in to the grief and to the fear. Besides Will didn't have anything else to live for. Molly and Josh were dead. They were dead! He could do nothing to save them! He couldn't even pray for them for he lost his faith in God a long time ago.

They were dead. The damn Ripper killed them! The Ripper sent him that letter for a reason. Will knew that there was always a reason. He knew that he should of listened to that reason but he was far to stubborn to listen.

Next thing he knew was that he couldn't scream anymore. He instead was weeping. He was crying unshed tears that failed to escape for more than ten years. He was crying because of the undying pain and grief. He cried for being truly alone. His face contorted with regret, pain, and longing. His eyes swelled, red and the light lost forever.

He went to his refrigerator and took out a beer. He started to drink. He didn't drink like he did before in wallowing in his misery. No, he drank slowly and let his mind think out all the wishes and dreams that he wish could have passed. He drank each sip as if it were poison; silently wondering if he could ever live again.

He scratched his head. He ripped his clothes. He tore his hair. It was the pain that he couldn't stop. The pain was coming out and growing stronger and stronger. The blow that was given to him by Destiny, God, Fate, or whatever was too much. He was losing his bearings. He wept and wept. He was unsure about what he would do next.

He tripped over to his desk. He opened the bottom drawer and stared, empty at the weapon inside. It was his special heavily modified Charter Arms .44 Bulldog revolver and picked it up as if it were something sacred.

He went to sit down on the couch again. He turned on the television and closed his eyes. He let the continuous report of Molly and Josh's deaths sink in. He let the newscaster say something. He let himself fall deeper into grief.

He opened his eyes. He gazed longingly at the butt of his revolver. He cocked the gun and remembered that a long time ago in his first alone time when Molly and Josh had left in the previous hour. He smiled coolly at the gun. He felt like drowning and that the only way to same himself was by killing himself.

He wanted to die. He thought that it was his time. He knew that he was willing to do anything to stop him from being alone. He placed the gun's point between his. He closed his eyes again and smiled wider and warmer. He thought of a life of peace and contentment. That was his dream and goal even though he knew it wouldn't be.

So he started to slowly pull the trigger…….when all of a sudden a ring was heard and it blared into his ear…. He shuddered at the sound and watched as his helpers put aside a few things. He sighed. Was it a sigh of relief? No. Was it a sigh of annoyance? A little.

He carefully put the gun on the coffee table. He knew who it was and didn't want to answer but he kept calling and calling. Will knew that nothing would bring his life back into order. He wanted nothing to do with the war.

He forced himself to answer. He picked up the receiver and said, "You don't need to ask anymore. I know when my choice is." He sighed again. The hesitation that rested on his chest wavered and fled. He continued without giving Crawford the chance of speaking said, "I'll do it. I'll help with the investigation of the Ripper and I'll help with the finding of Lecter and Starling."

He had no choice. There was no other choice. He had nothing else to live for and he had nothing else to lose. He was alone. He was almost lost. He was shocked.

_**Little did he know was that he took a job that will take him across the states from Washington to Florida from New York to California and back and forth. It will lead him to different countries. **_

Stay tuned: TBC….

A/N: Yes, this chapter is finally up…. Whoa! They died! What the $#? Hehe… Well once again I hoped you all enjoyed…

A/N:2/: I didn't know the last name for Molly so I made one up… oops oh well… Please I beg of you to review whether you wanted to give me constructive criticism or just a well loved thanking review… it doesn't matter. Enjoy the story! Stay tuned to Changes!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimers: **I do not own Hannibal Lecter and I definitely do not own William Graham. I do, on the other hand, own the original characters which were obviously created by me to suit the purpose of the story.

**A/N: **I apologize profusely for not updating this story. But I assure you that I am finally back! The writer's block is gone.

_**A/N: 2: Oh, and comments appreciated!**_

**Changes**

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Will was not sure how long it would take till the plane lands in Virginia. He bought the tickets as fast as he could. He didn't bother packing. He did not want to pact. It was just not worth it. He might as well buy himself new things.

It was a new start. Was it? He needed a new start. Yes, he would really need a new start if he would head the investigation of the Ripper and the search for Lecter and Starling. Did he know what he just got himself into? He was going to lead two big things. And he still hasn't gotten over his hangover.

Graham looked out the airplane's side window. He watched the clouds gather up as the large mobile moved through the sky. It's been a long time. He couldn't help but wonder on what kind of a reception he'll get once he makes his return.

He wasn't looking forward to it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Lucy shook her head. "I can't believe we haven't got this one. Out of all the criminals – serial killers out in the world I want this one most."

Chris nodded in agreement. He pointed at the map in front of them in their office. He laid his index finger at each place the Ripper made his mark.

"He's been here in Oregon, Florida, Alaska, California, etc, etc. He or she has been everywhere." He couldn't help but be in awe. He didn't like being in awe about a serial killer's work but with the Ripper – it was a different story.

"I agree." Lucy replied. She heard the awe. She too felt it. "I don't know how the Ripper was able to go from one place to another without losing – his way if you know what I mean. It just doesn't make sense. I try to get into this guy's head but I can up with – nothing."

Chris rubbed his face; exhausted. "I know. I know," he said. "I've tried to as well. But I end up getting too many different profiles. I don't know what to make of it."

_And that was what hurt. They didn't know. They don't know. _

………………………………………………………………………………………………

In Daly City, in the middle of the Serramonte Mall was a body. This body was laid; spread eagled on the ground. There wasn't any blood; there wasn't any sign of trauma or post mortem injuries. The body was clean and naked. And on top of the body was a tape and under that very tape was a note addressed to the FBI to inform them that the Ripper has struck again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Charlene Chanson was met by federal personnel. She was given the news about her daughter and her grandson.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing; but she knew it to be true.

Her heart broke. She fell on her knees and cried. Her babies were dead.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Anton Fischer grimaced at the sight before his eyes. He didn't like what he saw. He hated what he saw.

He was standing before the victims of madman. These victims were slaughter. Each man and women had their genitals cut off and made to surround them all in a circle. Their bodies have been burned and mutilated. There were dog bites all over them; giving the point that dogs were feeding on their dead bodies. And what made everything worst was that the bodies of the five males and females were actually the bodies of five boys and girls.

"Outrageous," he muttered to himself as he covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief to block out the stench.

Shaking his head, he continued looking over the bodies. He knelt by each one and examined them. He bagged the evidence, dusted everything for prints, etc. He did the normal routine when someone was murdered. But the thing that unnerved him was that he was seeing children who looked no more than thirteen being the people that were murdered.

"Same MO," his partner Rutner said.

Anton nodded. "Yeah," he said with disgust. "Tape recording on their bodies and a note under them." He looked up at his partner. "The Ripper was here," he solemnly added.

Anton was sad. He has faced many other killers in world but never one like this. The Ripper was different. The Ripper was dangerous. Fischer didn't know if the Ripper could be stopped.

Anton wanted the Ripper to stop. He wanted it so bad. After all, enough people have died.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It's been awhile – no, it's been longer than awhile since Will was in Quantico. It's been years. It has been many years since he last entered any federal office. It was official in his mind now. He was back.

He didn't know what to do as he stood in front of the doors. It was a foreign concept to be working. What changed? _**Molly and the boy's death. **_He frowned at himself for reminding him the recent murder. His heart was already broken enough.

_**Breathe. **_He needed to breathe. He was the one who made the choice. He had to follow it up. It was the least he could do. _**Promise. **_He needs to promise himself to not let the fear get the best of him. He must promise himself that what he can do is not a disease. He uses it for good; nothing less and nothing more.

God, he felt like having a drink. _**No! **_He had to stay sober. It was the only way to do the job. He had to stay sober.

_Swoosh! _He blinked. Someone just past him and entered the headquarters. He realized that must be looking stupid just standing outside, head down, and doing nothing. He shook his head. It was now or never.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

NCIS Special Agent Leon Banner looked down at the body before him. It was a captain of the navy. His body was battered as if hit by over and over by a bat. It was a brutal site. It was one of his worst crime scenes ever.

"Goren! You get anything?" he asked his senior field agent.

The young man shook his head as he took pictures. "Nothing, boss. The rain washed away anything that would be of importance."

Banner sighed. It was as he expected. He knew that the captain had been on the side of the road for quite some time. But how long?

As if reading his mind, the Head Medical Examiner Sharon Tomb said, "He's been here for at least a week."

A week? Banner didn't like the sound of that. If a body's been out in the open for a week and the rain from yesterday just washed away whatever evidence left astray then he definitely got a problem.

"Boss! I found something!" cried his other agent McNeil.

He turned to his agent who was kneeling by the steel gate and pointing at something black. Goren took a few pictures of it and then McNeil picked the black thing up.

"What is it?" Banner asked, curious. The black thing was rectangular but wasn't clear to his eyes on what it was. It was obviously damaged by the rain.

McNeil's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the black object.

"McNeil!" Banner cried in impatience.

Goren shook his head. He knew what it was too. "It's a tape recorder."

Banner's eyes widened. It couldn't be. "What?" he gasped.

McNeil, after gathering his wits, nodded. "He's right."

"Check the back." Goren ordered knowing fully well what this implicated.

The other agent listened and turned the recorder over. And there it was, too everyone's dismay, lay a white note taped to the back. It looked quite well as if protected from some outside force.

"It's the Ripper." Goren and McNeil said in unison.

Banner's heart fell. His day just gotten worst. The Ripper had visited Washington D.C.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

William Graham walked through the familiar halls in silence. He didn't expect a big welcome back but he did expect the stares. That was what he got as he walked through the old halls.

He kept his head slightly down as he roamed the halls; trying to remember where the old conference room was. He didn't like the feeling that lingered when he felt the many people's stares.

The fear was creeping up inside of him again. He felt his senses pique up. He knew the sensation well. The fear was keeping him company.

He has used the fear well when he was a "special investigator." It has served him well. He got two serial killers with it. _Three. _He winced as he heard Lecter's voice. But he didn't believe what the man said. He knew that he found Lecter out by accident; not by his fear. His fear didn't work with Lecter. It should have but it didn't. So what made him and everyone else think that it could work for this situation? He didn't know. He didn't want to known.

He already made his choice.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Lecter was reading a book. It was a curious book; one that he doesn't have much interest in but he read it anyway. It was the Bible. He would read the "holy book" every now and again. It wasn't an expense. He didn't question the authority or the existence of a "higher power." He, in fact, had no time for such spiritual and religious things.

Clarice was beside him reading her own book. It was Dante's Inferno. She was keenly interested in what she was reading. She was by far very amused. She loved reading about hell. It was the thing she liked to do. She felt humor whenever she read on the description about hell. By far, the nine circles of hell was her favorite version. She liked to pick people decide where to put them.

A letter lay beside them. It wasn't a very long letter. But it was an important one. It was by their mutual soon-to-be-friend the Ripper.

**Hello Dr. Lecter and Miss Starling,**

**How are you today? I hope you are doing well. I have taken notice of the letter you wrote me Lecter. I enjoyed it immensely. I hope we can have more conversations but by better means.**

**Clarice… I want to meet you. I wonder how well Lecter has treated you. But then again. It was your choice to be with him. I do not want to give out blame. I never will.**

**Young William Graham isn't so young anymore. He's accepted Crawford's offer in leading the investigation for me and the search for you two. He's taken a hard path has he not? I'm worried. He's been an alcoholic for the past few years. I don't want this new Will to investigate and search for us. I hope the old Will comes back. **

**He uses his fear well does he not? He amuses me. Does he amuse you? I hope so. It is so lovely to be amused.**

**My work is hardly done. I've been doing this for years. I have no intention of stopping. I want to exhibit my work a lot more. I want Will to chase me. I want to see if he can get inside my head. He is after all the Special Investigator of the Federal Bureau. I can't wait for the game to begin.**

**Ah! I must depart for now. A lot of work must be done and goals must be achieved.**

**Fare you two well,**

**The Ripper.**

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**TBC**

**End-Note: **I'm sorry this was such a short chapter but I promise you all that the next chapter will be much longer. Reviews keep me going!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimers**: I do not own Hannibal Lecter and I do not own William Graham. I wish I owned them though. But sadly, I do not.

**A/N**: I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I hope to have the next chapter up very soon for this story and for my others. Reviews appreciated and keep me going!

"It's nice to see you again, Will," greeted the physiatrist Bloom. He extended his hand and gave Graham a warm smile.

Will didn't even blink. He just took the other man's hand and gave a firm shake. He didn't miss the guy. He really didn't care for him but he knew that he would have to work with him. It would seem Dr. Bloom would and is his first greeter.

"You too, Dr. Bloom," he replied with a well-practiced tone of sincerity.

He was in the conference room. A large table in the middle, a big white screen in the north wall, and extra chairs and couches around them along with televisions, computers etc, etc. It reminded him of that old room that his uncle had. It had been the meeting room of drunks and idiots. Well maybe – there wasn't much a difference between the one he was in at the moment and his uncle's.

He was met by a beautiful woman. She was broad shouldered, blue-eyed, and had the longest and thickest auburn hair he had ever seen. She, too, extended her hands to him once he got further inside the conference room.

"Hi, I'm Zoe – most call me Zoey. I work with the technicians," she introduced with an unusually high pitched voice.

Will gave her a weak smile. "Nice to meet you, m'am."

"Whoa, Graham, who would've thought?"

The loud exclamation made Will tense. But it quickly went away when he saw the familiar face of his old boss and friend Jack Crawford.

He let go of Zoey's hand and extended it towards Crawford. "How've you been, Jack?" he asked with a somewhat genuine smile.

Jack gave him a shrug. "Not so good," he said with a little bitterness. "With my wife, the Ripper, Starling, and Lecter…. How can I be good?" Then he put on his big smile; one filled with happiness. He clasped Will's hand and pulled him into a hug. "With you here, I feel much better."

Will was hesitant to return the hug. For so many years, he didn't have much physical contact with other human beings. This was undoubtedly new. But he sensed the fear and desperation in Jack, so he let his hesitation go to the side and hugged back.

"I'm here," was all he could say to the older man.

Pulling himself apart from Will, Jack smiled wider. "Yup, you are!" he exclaimed. "Give it a few more minutes. Not everyone is here."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Detective George Mason looked at the FBI agent before him. She introduced herself as Vera Damian. She was tall, brunette, and green-eyed. She looked fit and clever. He couldn't imagine why she chose to be a federal agent.

Special Agent Vera Damian didn't bother looking at the man she knew was watching her. She already guessed and was proven correct that he was tall, Irish born, blue-eyed blonde. And that he was Daly City's very own.

There was one thing they both were thinking about. The Ripper. The fact that the serial killer made his or her way to Daly City and left a body in the middle of a mall which is occupied by more than ninety people at a time was unpleasant and more.

From the ME's report, the person who was killed. The victim was, in fact, a man. He was killed by a cocktail; the same cocktail used for the death row penalty.

"Detective Mason."

Mason looked up. "Yeah?"

"You get the name of vic?" Damian replied.

It had been agreed that they should have a joint investigation. Regarding, anything that went along with the Ripper it was firmly agreed that the two would have to work together not just out of diplomacy but out of the necessity of needing more man power – or woman power.

"Yes, the victim's name is Jason Colbert. Age forty. Retired fireman." Mason replied like he rehearsed to himself. He had a question that he wanted to ask but he already knew the answer. He just hoped it wasn't true. "Was there any note?"

Damian nodded. "Yeah, I already copied it then sent it to Quantico."

"What did it say?" Mason asked, not really wanting to know.

Vera looked at him. Her eyes were intense. "You don't want to know."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Will was now sitting at the head of the conference table. Across from him was Jack Crawford. Next to him were Zoëy and Dr. Bloom. There six other people with him. These were people who Jack introduced as Stephen Davids: profiler, Seanne Fitzgerald: sound analyst, Mick Laverty: scientist, Jimmy Tobbs: linguist and psychiatrist, Venus Richards: Head Medical Examiner, and Connie Lazlo; profiler.

He was surrounded by professionals. He wasn't even sure that he was one. _I used to be one. _He looked at Crawford and smiled slightly; telepathically saying: _You call me for this. I'm just one man. You really think I can make a difference._

Jack smiled back and nodded reassuringly. His eyes replied to say only two words:_Don't worry. _

Don't worry? How can Will not worry? Here he was, in Quantico, assigned by Crawford to lead two enormous investigations and if he were to fail than his whole life and career would be filled with disgrace. Don't worry. That was an understatement of the year.

"Well, let's begin." Jack finally said. "Special Investigator William Graham has agreed to lead our two most tiring and important investigations. Let us inform on our progress."

_So it begins, _Will thought. _There's no turning back now._

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Fischer washed his face over and over. He couldn't get the stench off himself. He couldn't cool himself down.

Another victim. Another grieving family. All thanks to the Ripper.

It was at these moments that Anton hated his job. He hated seeing the death and the misery. But every now and again he sees retribution. He sees justice be done. But with the Ripper – it does not seem likely to happen. It actually seems impossible to ever happen – like a foreign concept.

Rutner and he went through the usual doings when encountering a murder. They met the families, asked if anyone wanted to hurt the victims, and wrote down the answers. It didn't make much sense though. Who would really want to hurt those three little boys and two little girls? It just didn't make much sense to him.

Anton hates meeting the families. He hated seeing their outrage and their tears. He hated assuring them that he would do all he can to capture the scumbag who did the heinous crime. But that was never enough. The families still lost someone they loved.

Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Graham blinked at all the information he had to take in. There were countless files in front of him. Pictures, notes, etc, etc were in those particular files and he dreaded the fact that he would have to read them.

"Every profiler has tried to get in the guys head." Lazlo said. "I've tried and I assume Davids tried too. Am I correct?"

The said man nodded.

"And he and I can't seem to find the real reason the killer does what he does. It doesn't make sense." Lazlo continued with a shake of her head. "First I think that he's an orphan. Then I say he had been molested, and so forth and so forth. And I get nothing."

"The Ripper is elusive and meticulous in his work. He doesn't leave anything for us to pick up. He leaves just about anything and I mean – anything that can be put into evidence or be categorized as evidence. It's like he knows what we would think when we get the particular evidence." Davids added. He looked a little frustrated, but Will couldn't blame him. After all he heard, he couldn't blame if any of the group were frustrated.

And to think that the Ripper could be just like them. But then again, that's what profiling is. Profiling is to walk a line between the rational and the irrational. It's like the line between genius and insanity. You say you walk it but never cross, but everyone knows that to walk a line means doing both, and sooner or later it comes biting you right back in the ass.

Graham started to feel his ears go warm. His leg wants to shake but he controls it. His throat is dry and so are his hands. The fear was creeping up again. The fear came out because of the word: elusive. He did not like that word.

"He knows how we think," he said aloud, not even realizing it.

"What?" Crawford asked with a curious expression on his face.

Everyone was looking at him now. Will shifted uncomfortably. He tried not to think about his fear. He needed to use it for the better.

"He thinks like us." Will began. The easiness set back into him. He was working. His fear let him work. He was almost back to his old self. "It's easy to see." He picked up one of the files; casually leafing through it. "He leaves a generous amount of evidence or a lack of it to change our views." He looked at Davids and then at Lazlo. "Like you two said. You first think something and then after the next victim you change your perception. It's brilliant. A killer who profiles just as well as you and I."

_Great, _he thought. _I've just made them think I'm going insane. _

They all were still staring at him. They were all silent and thoughtful. They were making Will anxious.

"You have a point." Bloom said. He looked at the others. "That's how the Ripper is able to get away. He thinks like both a serial killer and a fed." He laughed slightly. "He's a profiler."

_Shit, _Will thought, _that's not good. _But it did make sense. That was out the Ripper was able to get away with so much. The Ripper was a profiler. It clicked. The more the evidence and the lack of evidence proved. The change of scenario and of MO proved it.

_Shit, _Will thought again, _this is not good at all. _He was no longer facing just another serial killer. He was no longer facing just a mad man. He was facing someone who thought like them. He was facing someone so clever that he could move from place to place without being spotted, and has the ability to kill in any way possible.

Yes, the situation officially became shit and it was not good at all.

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**TBC**

**Endnote: **I hope you all enjoyed this. I don't think this was very long. I wanted it to be but alas, it was not so. Once again, comments appreciated and reviews are love!


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